A Band's Tale
by Nokamiso
Summary: All we wanted to do was preform. It was a dream when we were invited to go to New York and play. How could it have gone so wrong? I'll tell you, the complete story, about how we all nearly died from the walking dead.
1. Chapter 1

**World War Z: A Band's Tale**

**Chapter 1: Mangione Opener**

The man in the dark house was flipping through channels on the television. He had just woken up, idly watching shows as they passed, each on for only a few seconds. He got up and went to the bathroom. The television was still on.

The show on displayed a logo with a _Special Report_, above it. Two people came on and were talking to each other. The conversation they were having seemed serious.

The man came back in the room and stared at the TV for a moment, before snatching the remote from the arm of the chair. He looked at the remote and carefully hit the record button, before sitting on the chair and hitting the rewind button. He hit play.

~**Announcer**: ... a man who was stuck in New York City when the first outbreaks occurred tells his story that starts from the beginning of the Zombie War. He has agrred to share his story, only with us, your beloved nightly news. We are sure that his heart-breaking story will captivate viewers for months.

~The screen shifts to a young man. He appears to be about 20. It is hard to tell, as he is sitting down, but it seems he is about 6 feet tall. His face, though full of emotion, shows Asiatic traits. His thick dark hair is parted on the side, which seems to add years to him. His dark eyes glance up at an off-screen cue. His mouth opens a sliver; he begins to talk.

~**UNKNOWN MAN:** What I want known, right now, is that this is not just my story. My friends and I struggled through this, _unnatural,_ infection, and some of them died so others could live. I'm not telling this story so that my friends and I could get glory, or money, or some sort of grand, heroic reprensentation, but to show the true heroism of those who didn't make it.

His eyes sorrowfully shift to the side, then to the floor. He looks up and across the table in front of him to the man on the other side. His gaze seems to penetrate the interviewer. The interviewer squirms slightly, before settling into a more comfortable position. When he stops, the asian man begins again.

**UM: **I'm ready to begin my story. Where would you like me to start?

**Interviewer: **How about at the beginning? How did you end up in New York?

~The man hit the pause button on the remote. He glanced at the clock mounted above the television. 11:23PM. He sighed before turning the television off and heading to his bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**TADA!**

**Chapter 2 is here! Sorry its been taking me so long to update. I had three projects due and a bunch of other crap in school. I also have family over for approximatly 2 weeks and had to get ready for them. My mom is quite insistent that the house is never clean enough. And to top it ALL off, I was engaged in an intense game of _Civilization 4_. Apparently, General Washington doesn't appreciate being hit by nukes before Columbus reached America. Go figure.**

**Anyway here is _At Dawn they Slept, _Chapter 2 of _A Band's Tale_.**

**Enjoy.**

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World War Z: A Band's Tale

**Chapter 2: At Dawn They Slept**

**Unknown Man: **My name is Shimaku.

**Interviewer: **And your last name?

**Shimaku: **It doesn't matter.

**I: **And why is that?

**S:** How many people honestly know a person named Shimaku? (rolls his eyes) Come on now, really. Think about it. No one worth knowing needs two names. Tojo, Jesus, Hitler, Buddha. How many people can remember their full names?

**I: **Fair enough. Can we get back to your story?

**S:** Of course. We, that is to say, the band I was in, traveled to New York. We were going to a completion…

**I:** What instrument did you play?

**S:** Do I play. I still play.

**I:** Sorry, I just assumed…

**S:** Yes, I know. (pauses and sighs) I play trumpet.

Now, we had heard reports of a weird rabies virus spreading, but none of us really paid attention. It was like, I don't know, the swine flu "epidemic" or the bird flu "pandemic." We just figured it was a bunch of bullshit. The point is, nobody cared. All we wanted to do was play at the competition. We were, to put it bluntly, band geeks.

**I:** (chuckles) Band geeks?

**S:** A self-imposed label. We had people who could play through their nose.

Now, our director, Professor John, had told us to get ready. He yelled something stupid at us as we got off the charter bus. We assembled our instruments and marched through the hallways of the theater like champions. We sat down on the staged and warmed up. We waited for the judges for at least five minutes.

Prof. John was okay with waiting for a bit; it gave him a chance to give us yet another pep talk. That man could give some seriously messed up speeches though. Somehow, he had ended up on puberty during one talk when he was telling about how to properly dress for a concert. However, he ended his talk with his customary, "Who's your daddy?" In response, Noland, one of our sax players, shouted, "It's you Papa John!" Everyone burst out laughing.

We heard the auditorium door open. Those doors seemed to open slowly, because everyone in the theater turned and looked as one before the doors opened halfway. Two of the judges shuffled into the room, moaning as they made their way towards, what we presumed were their judging tables. Jason, another sax player, made a joke about someone needing their coffee. A few anxious chuckles rose from the stage. (a pained look enters his eyes as he continues)

When the two judges entered, I felt shivers run up my spine. I had looked around and saw similar reactions on Isabella, a flute, and Sergei, a percussion exchange student. In fact, everyone was on edge except for Wendell. But Wendell was usually oblivious to everything.

**I:** Do you know why you were on edge?

**S:** Yeah, I do. You know that feeling that someone's watching you? (the interviewer nods) It's an old instinct that warns you about danger. Humans have lost it for the most part due to not having any natural predators. I tell you, that feeling has saved my life numerous times.

**I:** So what happened?

**S:** I did say that they were moaning, yes? Well, when they approached the audience, the moan increased in intensity. Jason began to make another joke, but it died on his lips. Prof. John motioned for us to get ready to play, but we were all deeply unsettled by the moans.

What came next happened incredibly fast. Unless you were there, you wouldn't believe how fast it could happen. Now, I consulted with some so-called experts that said that there was no possible way for Zack to move that fast, but they did. Stupid, bullshit "specialists."

The judges stumbled over the small railing dividing the judges' tables and the audience. Several of the audience members looked at the figures as though they were drunk, but soon started to quickly move away. One judge had grabbed a man and began to pull him towards the zombies gaping maw. What really disturbed me was not this cannibalistic act, but the strength. The judge was a small man, maybe five three, or five four. The man it had grabbed was well over six foot with rippling muscles. I mean literally rippling muscles. The zombie dragged him to its mouth as a mother would drag a kid form a store. The man screamed as the zombie began eating him.

While this was happening, the other zombie was moving through the audience grabbing at an old woman. The second zombie grabbed the old lady's jacket and the lady fell to the ground and busted her head. The zombie fell upon her and began eating.

We looked at this in horrid fascination. None of us could honestly believe what was happening. Prof. John told us to pack up and get out, immediately. In the confusion, several instruments flew through the air. One, a clarinet arced and drew a cut along the eye of Rose, a clarinet player. She screamed in agony as Sergei picked her up and carried her out with the rest of us.

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**I would like to say thank you to my band at school, of whom every character in this story is based off of. I didn't say that each character is a carbon-copy, just based. That's how I turn David into a six-foot something Russian more muscular than the Governator.**

**And thank you Brian for reading my story. WHOOO!**

**And I would like to say that I am still under house arrest by Sara Kerrigan, the scary-ass Queen of Blades. I fear for my life.**


	3. Chapter 3

Hey everyone, Nokamiso here. Well, obviously it's me, but whatever. Yeah it's been a while, and no, I am not dead (unlike the majority of the population of the earth in this story). Here for your reading enjoyment, the continuation of A Band's Tale.

And every single one of you had better click that review button, or else I'll send you an infected cookie. :D

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**WWZ: A Band's Tale**

**Chapter 3: Land of Make-Believe**

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**Shimaku**: We fled the theater, but outside was no better. We made a rush for the buses, but not very effectively.

**Interviewer**: But you did make it.

**Shimaku**: (Grimly) Yes, but at a cost. While heading there, we encountered more of the zombies. There were two of them, one with its organs hanging out. All the while we were running along the halls of the building, all I could think of was why we didn't see any of this on our way in. Honestly, how did we miss zombies stumbling around moaning and eating people? But I didn't have much time to think. The first thing I noticed about these two was the smell. The other two were far enough away that the smell wasn't very noticeable. These two were less than ten feet away, having come from around the corner.

**I**: What happened?

**S**: Too much. We were running full sprint down the hallway. We all tried to stop. But not all of us stopped in time. Xander, a baritone player, tripped and ran right into them. He tried backing up, but the larger of the two grabbed him and tore his throat out. A few of the band screamed. Now, I wasn't close with Xander, and this was the closest I've ever really been to death, excluding funerals.

But here, instead of revoltion or disgust, I felt pumped. I grabbed my trumpet on the neck near the mouthpiece and swung. The edge of the bell lodged in the skull of the one that had killed Xander. It fell to the ground with a loud thump. While I had done this, Noland had swung his saxophone in an overhead arc that crashed dead center on the head of the second zombie. The entire thing had taken less than 10 seconds.

**I**: That was your first kill, wasn't it?

**S**: (Anger enters his voice) Now what kind of stupid question is that?

**I**: I meant no offense, just clari-

**S**: No, I get it. You think I might be a bit delusional. I would probably think the same thing with all the shit that's happened. But I'm not. (Shimaku's fist pounds on the arm of the chair.)

**I**: (hesitates) I'm sorry. Please continue.

**S**: (Breathes deeply) No, I'm sorry. Anger management problems, you know? It's just-, yeah.

As I was saying, the two zombies were dead. I'm ashamed to say we left his body there, but then we didn't know what created the zombies. I mean there was all the myth about them and stuff, from black magic to voodoo to airborne virus, but the point is, we didn't know! Ignorance caused the damn war, and it's lack of ignorance that saved us.

**I**: What do you me-

**S**: I'll get to it later. Not important right now.

We headed to the buses, but not before three or four people were bitten. On our way out, we encountered 10 or so more zombies. We tried to avoid them, but we lost five more students. We had to split up to get on the buses; at least the three bus drivers were kind enough to stay for us. The drivers opened the doors long enough for us to get on, then they all began speeding out of the parking lot.

As they left the concert hall, we began seeing more and more of the undead. All the while, we wondered how we could have missed that many beings.

**I**: Did you ever find out why?

**S**: No, we've had many theories, but we never did discover how that many resurrected so quickly.

Later, we discovered instances where one person got bit, they infected a few, then all of those infected some more. You know, exponential growth. That didn't fit with this mass of zombies. We had a theory for a while that the water treatment plant got infected some how, and that was how they all got infected.

Anyways, we ended up somewhere downtown, when the middle bus crashed. I was in the first bus with some others, and we had the driver stop so we could help our friends in the crash. Fortunately, the last bus managed to avoid the same fate as the bus in front of it.

When we got to the bus however, a fist burst through the door window.

All of our infect friends were on that bus.

**I**: Did you do that on purpose? Put them all on the same bus?

**S**: No, that was the bus they had come on. All of their belongings were on that bus, so that is where they went.

**I**: Okay. (Gestures with hand) Please continue.

**S**: We ran back to the bus to get on, but the driver was already evacuating the bus. She had looked ahead and realized that the road was blocked and steadily filling up with zombies. Staying outside was a deathtrap, so we gathered everyone from the third bus as well and rushed into the nearest building.

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Yay! Another chapter! And cyber-cookie (non-infected) for anyone who can guess the building they run into!


End file.
